Maira's eyes widened. Her breath hitched—silent, startled. She didn't understand how quickly it happened, but suddenly her face was buried against his shoulder, her fingers clenching behind his back, clutching at the fabric of his white shirt like a child afraid to let go.
It was warm.
His embrace was steady—not desperate, not overwhelming—but it surrounded her completely, as if his arms were the only thing keeping her upright now. Her cheek pressed against the curve of his neck, and there, she heard his heart. Faint. Fast. Human.
A strange comfort settled into her bones.
She didn't know when her eyes began to sting again… but they did. And instead of fighting the weight in her chest, she let herself lean into it—into him.
Her fingers dug unconsciously into his back, nails pressing through cloth into skin. Not to hurt—but to hold. Her breath caught in the hollow of her throat as she felt the strength in his grip, the quiet shelter of it. Something about it was real.
